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One day when I went out to my wood-pile, or rather my pile of stumps, Iobserved two large ants, the one red, the other much larger, nearly halfan inch long and black, fiercely contending with one another. Havingonce got hold they never let go, but struggled and wrestled and rolledon the chips incessantly. Looking farther, I was surprised to find thatthe chips were covered with such combatants, that it was not a"duellum," but a "bellum," [Footnote: Duellum ... bellum: war.] a warbetween two races of ants, the red always pitted against the black, andfrequently two red ones to one black. The legions of these Myrmidons[Footnote: Myrmidons: a fierce tribe that accompanied Achilles, theirking, to the Trojan War.] covered all the hills and vales in mywood-yard, and the ground was already strewn with the dead and dying,both red and black. It was the only battle which I had ever witnessed,the only battle-field I ever trod while the battle was raging;internecine [Footnote: Internecine: mutually destructive.] war; the redrepublicans on the one hand and the black imperialists on the otherhand. On every side they were engaged in deadly combat, yet without anynoise that I could hear, and human soldiers never fought so resolutely.I watched a couple that were fast locked in each other's embraces, in alittle sunny valley amid the chips; now at noon-day prepared to fighttill the sun went down, or life went out. The smaller red champion hadfastened himself like a vice to his adversary's front, and through allthe tumblings on that field never for an instant ceased to gnaw at oneof his feelers near the root, having already caused the other to go bythe board; while the stronger black one dashed him from side to side,and, as I saw on looking nearer, had already divested him of several ofhis members. They fought with more pertinacity [Footnote: Pertinacity:persistency, obstinacy.] than bull-dogs. Neither manifested the leastdisposition to retreat. It was evident that their battle-cry was Conqueror die. In the meanwhile there came along a single red ant on thehillside of this valley, evidently full of excitement, who either haddispatched his foe, or had not yet taken part in the battle; probablythe latter, for he had lost none of his limbs; whose mother had chargedhim to return with his shield or upon it. [Footnote: Return with hisshield or upon it. What is the allusion? See Brewer's _Reader'sHandbook_ under "Spartan Mother."] He drew near with rapid pace tillhe stood on his guard within half an inch of the combatants; then,watching his opportunity, he sprang upon the black warrior, andcommenced his operations near the root of his right fore-leg, leavingthe foe to select among his own members; and so there were three unitedfor life, as if a new kind of attraction had been invented which put allother locks and cements to shame. I should not have wondered by thistime to find that they had their respective musical bands stationed onsome eminent chip, and playing their national airs the while, to excitethe slow and cheer the dying combatants. I was myself excited somewhateven as if they had been men. The more you think of it, the less thedifference.

I took up the chip on which the three I have particularly described werestruggling, carried it into my house, and placed it under a tumbler onmy window-sill, in order to see the issue. Holding a microscope to thefirst-mentioned red ant, I saw that, though he was assiduously[Footnote: Assiduously: diligently, laboriously.] gnawing at the nearforeleg of his enemy, having severed his remaining feeler, his ownbreast was all torn away, exposing what vitals he had there to the jawsof the black warrior, whose breast-plate was apparently too thick forhim to pierce; and the dark carbuncles of the sufferer's eyes shone withferocity such as war only could excite. They struggled half an hourlonger under the tumbler, and when I looked again the black soldier hadsevered the heads of his foes from their bodies, and the still livingheads were hanging on either side of him like ghastly trophies at hissaddle-bow, still apparently as firmly fastened as ever, and he wasendeavoring with feeble struggles, being without feelers and with onlythe remnant of a leg, and I know not how many other wounds, to divesthimself of them; which at length, after half an hour more, heaccomplished. I raised the glass, and he went off over the window-sillin that crippled state. Whether he finally survived that combat, andspent the remainder of his days in some Hotel des Invalides, [Footnote:Hotel des Invalides: an establishment founded in 1670 at Paris fordisabled and infirm soldiers. It contains military trophies andpaintings, and a remarkable collection of armor.] I do not know; but Ithought that his industry would not be worth much thereafter. I neverlearned which party was victorious, nor the cause of the war; but I feltfor the rest of that day as if I had had my feelings excited andharrowed by witnessing the struggle, the ferocity and carnage, of ahuman battle before my door.

--HENRY THOREAU.

[Footnote: What things in the account of the battle show that the writeris a trained observer? Does it add to the interest of the battle toattribute human qualities to the combatants? Why? What touches of humordo you find in the description? Does the author show a sympatheticattitude toward war? Illustrate. What do you know of Thoreau's life atWalden Pond?]